Patronus
by Stoneheart1
Summary: An adult Harry looks back on events that changed his life years ago. A re-write of Prisoner of Azkaban that turns Goblet of Fire on its ear in the process. Harry/Hermione, now and forever.


A/N: As my WebTV is not compatible with FF.Net, this story is being posted through the kind efforts of Fae Princess. She enjoyed the story, and she assures me it is worth reading. Let the readers be the final judge. There is a prize of 1000 Galleons in Leprechaun gold to whoever is first to divine the meaning of the title. Claimants will be referred to Ludo Bagman care of the Ministry of Magic.  
  
  


*~*

  
  
Harry let out a deep, contented sigh as he stretched out to his full length on the soft, upholstered chaise lounge. The sun was warm on his face. A soft breeze ruffled his unruly black hair, exposing the lightning scar on his forehead.  
  
His hand dropped down, brushing cool blades of grass as he sought and found a glass of iced pumpkin juice. He raised the glass, took a refreshing sip. . .  
  
"Happy birthday, Daddy!" piped a childish voice. A moment later his five-year-old son had leaped onto his chest, seizing his neck in a fierce hug as pumpkin juice geysered into the air.  
  
In that moment, as he hugged his little boy to him, Harry felt like the luckiest man in the world. He knew with a certainty that, were the Mirror of Erised standing before him now, he could look into it and see himself exactly as he was; for everything he could possibly want in life was already his.  
  
It had not always been so. Sometimes, on quiet nights, he lay awake listening to Hermione's soft breathing next to him; and, as he stared into the darkness, he saw before him a panorama of the events which had led him to this place and time.  
  
And, inevitably, his thoughts turned to one night, one single night, now more than a decade removed - one fateful evening near the end of his third year at Hogwarts wherein the seed of all his future happiness was planted. . .  
  
  


*

  
  
  
They were all together in the Shrieking Shack: Himself, Hermione, Ron, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Severus Snape -- and Peter Pettigrew, aka Wormtail, the man who, Harry had just learned, had betrayed his parents to Voldemort, resulting in their deaths.  
  
The truth finally having outed, Wormtail was to be escorted to the castle, there to tell his story in the presence of Dumbledore and other reliable witnesses, thus absolving Sirius of guilt and freeing him from the specter of Azkaban.  
  
They were an odd assortent: Ron, pale and weak from the trauma of a broken leg and the shock of the revelation that his pet rat, Scabbers, was in reality an animagus (Pettigrew); Sirius, gaunt and haggard from half a lifetime in Azkaban and a year as a desperate fugitive; Lupin, his robes tattered, his face drawn and weary from the night's events and much more; Pettigrew, sniveling pathetically on the floor, his mousy features stamped with fear; Hermione, quietly trepidacious, rendered speechless for perhaps the first time in her life; Harry, his body shaking with suppressed rage as he surveyed Pettigrew with a malevolence even the Dursleys had never invoked...  
  
And Snape. Most curious of the lot, Snape hung suspended in the air, unconscious; he had been stunned when Harry, Ron and Hermione all aimed a disarming spell at him at the same instant. Lupin had levitated him to his present position, that being preferable to lugging him bodily.  
  
Sirius was eyeing Snape balefully from under his dark brows. He had produced manacles with which to bind Pettigrew to himself and Ron. But even as he reached for Pettigrew's arm he glanced again at Snape, and a steely glint suddenly shone in his slitted eyes.  
  
In a move that startled everyone, Sirius lashed out with lightning speed, dealing Pettigrew a savage blow to the side of his head that stretched him senseless on the dusty floor. . .  
  
"Why did you do that, Sirius?" Lupin asked hoarsely.  
  
"Because I don't trust him," Sirius snarled. "The moment we're out in the open, he can transform again and escape into the darkness before we could stop him. I prefer him like Snape."  
  
Lupin nodded, pointed his wand at Pettigrew and said, "_Mobilicorpus_." Immediately Pettigrew rose like a limp marionette and hung in the air beside Snape.  
  
"Come to think on it," Sirius said slowly, "I'm not sure I trust Snape any more than I do Peter. He's seen too much tonight, and he already has enough axes to grind."  
  
Lupin hesitated barely a moment before pointing his wand at Snape.  
  
"_Obliviate_!"  
  
Snape twitched once, then was still.  
  
  


*

  
  
Harry could not count the number of times he had shuddered in the night as he reflected how different things would have turned out had not Sirius acted as he did. For scarcely had they emerged from the shadow of the Whomping Willow when a gust of wind parted the clouds and exposed the party to the light of the full moon.  
  
They watched in horror as Lupin made the painful transformation from human to wolf. Sirius instantly assumed dog-form and leaped at the werewolf, wrestling the snarling creature away from the others in a fury of claws and fangs. Once Lupin had been dispatched to the Forbidden Forest, Sirius returned, only to be rendered impotent (along with everyone else) by a swarm of dementors.  
  
Under cover of such chaos, a conscious Pettigrew could easily have escaped in rat-form. With his only chance of proving his innocence evaporated like smoke, Sirius faced, at best, a lifetime of skulking in shadows, a hunted fugitive -- and, at worst, Azkaban, and the dementor's kiss.  
  
Thank Merlin for Sirius' paranoia!  
  
When at last the dementors had been driven off (in most mysterious fashion), the harried group made its way at last to Dumbledore's office. A revived Snape, his memory safely modified, was dispatched to his dungeon, to return with a vial of Veritaserum, the most powerful Truth Potion known. Under its sway, Pettigrew confessed all before several professors, whose testimony before the Ministry of Magic succeeded at last in clearing Sirius' name. The nightmare was over.  
  
  
Sirius' first act as a free man had been to petition the Ministry for custody of Harry, invoking his legal rights as Harry's godfather and lawfully appointed guardian. As documentary evidence of this was on file in the Ministry archives, the petition was granted swiftly (thanks in no small part to the supportive testimony of Dumbledore). Before the Summer was over, Harry had left the Dursleys forever. He immediately moved into his old room over the Leaky Cauldron, there to wait while Sirius put his affairs in order and found them a proper house to live in.  
  
In the meantime, Harry had his first-ever birthday party, hosted by the Weasleys at the Burrow. Harry's classmates all arrived by Floo powder, and the resulting tumult of celebration recessitated the dispatching of a Ministry task force throughout Ottery St. Catchpole to modify the memories of hundreds of Muggles.  
  
  
Besides providing Harry with the first real home he had ever known, Sirius likewise set about rebuilding his own life. Twelve years in Azkaban had taken its toll on the once fiery and gregarious former Marauder. With the unflagging support of friends and family, the old Sirius gradually began to reassert itself.  
  
Sirius spent much of Harry's later school years traveling, anxious to see as much as possible of the world he had been denied for so long. One of the earliest of these jaunts soon changed his life forever.  
  
While visiting an old friend in France, he was invited to visit Beauxbatons Academy to speak at a DADA seminar. He had immediately been drawn to a newly-hired Charms professor, and before the week was out he was completely smitten.  
  
A vivacious French-Canadian, Michelle LeGrande had been sent to France to live with an aunt, thereby to qualify for admission to Beauxbatons, where, in the words of her mother, she could, "Get a proper education, and learn a civilized language!".  
  
Michelle proved to be the spark that rekindled the old fire in Sirius. Dark of hair, with eyes that changed color in concert with her moods, she was more than a match for the volatile animagus. During her weekend visits to the house, Harry began to derive a guilty pleasure from listening to them argue -- which was often, as both were opinionated and vociferous. Michelle lapsed into fusilades of French invective when exasperated, and they reminded Harry of the Muggle telly show, "I Love Lucy."  
  
Still, Sirius never seemed happier than when he was with Michelle, and their marriage the following year surprised no one.  
  
  
The timing of their meeting in France was a favorite topic at family gatherings. Fate had seemed to conspire to bring them together. One year earlier, Michelle would not yet have joined the Beauxbatons faculty, having returned to Canada to make up lost time with her family. But Sirius had been quite busy himself that previous year, in a manner that was to turn the wizarding world on its ear.  
  
In the days preceding Sirius' exoneration, Albus Dumbledore had begun to suspect that Remus Lupin's tenure as DADA professor might not survive into a second year. The Headmaster had made arrangements with the Ministry of Magic to call Mad-Eye Moody out of retirement, over the protests of many. When Sirius was cleared, however, Dumbledore chose the smoother of two paths and offered the position to Sirius. The ramifications of this seemingly innocuous action would soon shake the wizarding world to its foundations.  
  
None knew at the time that Bartemius Crouch Jr., a former Death Eater, had escaped from Azkaban and rejoined his old master. In a scheme hatched by the embrionic (but still dangerous) Voldemort, Crouch was to impersonate Moody by means of Polyjuice Potion. His goal had been to kidnap Harry as part of a plan which would restore the Dark Lord to full power. But Dumbledore had thrown a spanner in the works with his appointment of Sirius, who proved a more formidable adversary than the paranoid Moody. With no small assistance from the Marauders' Map, Sirius had thwarted Crouch and returned him to Azkaban, to be joined soon after by Voldemort himself. In the wink of an eye, the world was free from the shadow of the Dark Lord forever.  
  
  
And in the years of peace and harmony which followed, Harry smiled many a secret smile to think that it had all come about because of a blow struck in anger by his godfather in the dusty confines of the Shrieking Shack.  
  
  


*

  
  
Smiling broadly as his reverie ended, Harry gave his son another hug, then patted him on the rump and said, "Go help your mum in the kitchen." The little boy kissed his daddy on the cheek and scampered off happily.  
  
Harry looked ruefully at his now-empty glass, then lay back and closed his eyes again, chuckling softly to himself.  
  
Time had done nothing to diminish his memory of that night so long ago when his life changed forever. But however significant were the events he had just recounted, none was moreso than that which transpired _after_ his adventure in the Shrieking Shack...  
  
  


*

  
  
Harry and Hermione lay in their beds in the hospital wing, recovering from their recent ordeal. Ron lay in another bed, his leg mended by Madam Pomfrey, in the thrall of a Dreamless Sleep Potion.  
  
The door had just closed behind Dumbledore, whose mysterious instructions to Hermione still reverberated in Harry's brain. The Headmaster had hinted that the two of them were, in some way, to prevent the execution of Buckbeak. But how? Was not Buckbeak already dead? Had not Harry himself heard the swish and thud of the executioner's axe?  
  
The answer came with the revelation of Hermione's Time-Turner, the means by which she had undertaken so heavy a schedule of classes that year. With three turns of the little golden hourglass, Harry and Hermione were hurled back in time three hours.  
  
Exiting the castle with care, they sprinted toward Hagrid's cabin to await their chance to free Buckbeak. This was accomplished with little difficulty, and they huddled in the shadows on the fringe of the Forbidden Forest to await the departure of the executioner and his party. But --  
  
"Harry," Hermione suddenly realized, "where can we hide Buckbeak where they won't find him? They're sure to look everywhere!"  
  
Harry had no answer. Dumbledore had given them no specific instructions before leaving them in the hospital room. But even as he thought thus, Harry heard Dumbledore's voice call out crisply from behind Hagrid's cabin:  
  
"Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot? Search the skies, if you will..."  
  
Exchanging knowing smiles, Harry and Hermione waited until Hagrid's cabin was silent once more before leading Buckbeak as deep as they dared into the Forest. They slipped the rope from the hippogriff's neck and sent him off into the wooded depths. It was only when Buckbeak was out of sight that they both released a grateful breath.  
  
"It's perfect!" Hermione hissed gleefully. "After what Dumbledore told them, they'll never think to look for Buckbeak just behind Hagrid's cabin! It's just like 'The purloined Letter'!"  
  
"The what?" Harry said.  
  
"Edgar Allan Poe," Hermione said. "A great Muggle writer of mystery stories. Remind me to lend you my copy sometime."  
  
Their task completed, there was nothing left but to wait until it was time to re-enter their hospital room--which, as Hermione never tired of reminding Harry, could not be until _after_ "they" had left it the first time.  
  
"We mustn't be seen, not even by ourselves!" she stressed urgently. "Even the tiniest glimpse could be disastrous!"  
  
Having left the Forbidden Forest, they walked stealthily back toward the castle to find a suitable place to await the appointed time. The Invisibility Cloak would have made everything easier, but it was currently with their "other selves", and Harry knew better than to suggest that he go retrieve it; Hermione's wrath was not to be incurred lightly.  
  
They seemed to be moving in the direction of the Whomping Willow. But Harry noted this only absently. His mind was overflowing with the events of the night...  
  
He found himself casting sidewise glances at Hermione as they walked. He had been impressed with her almost from the day they met. She, like Harry, had never heard of Hogwarts before receiving her letter, nor even suspected that such things as witches and wizards really existed. Yet in three short years she had become the top student at Hogwarts, excelling at every aspect of magic as if born to it. He'd begun to suspect that nothing was impossible where Hermione was concerned; after tonight, he was certain of it.  
  
But on the subject of "impossible", his mind slid onto another path.  
  
What had driven away the dementors earlier tonight? Just before passing out, Harry had glimpsed a brightly glowing shape which charged the dementors and dispersed them. The magical creature had returned whence it came, there to meet the one who, presumably, had dispatched it.  
  
The creature could only have been a Patronus, since nothing else could have affected the dementors so. Harry had failed repeatedly in his attempts to conjure a Patronus, producing only feeble wisps of silvery smoke. Someone had accomplished what he had not. But who?  
  
Harry thought he knew. But it was impossible.  
  
Yet, had not this night already proved capable of birthing the impossible?  
  
Harry needed to know. Now that they were back in time, he was determined to witness the event again, this time through clear eyes. He would wait. He would watch. And by Merlin, he would learn the truth!  
  
Harry blinked. He had been following Hermione blindly, lost in his own thoughts. He now saw that they were within sight of the Whomping Willow. Had Hermione read his mind?  
  
Hermione had found a large bush which would conceal them from prying eyes. Harry looked at the great tree, its branches dancing lightly in the June breeze, then transferred his gaze to Hermione.  
  
We'll be coming out any minute," she said, nodding toward the tree. "I thought it might be...interesting...to watch ourselves -- from a safe distance, of course."  
  
Harry agreed heartily. He had no desire to give the transformed Lupin another chance to kill him (to say nothing of the dementors!).  
  
As Hermione watched the strange company emerge from the secret passage at the base of the Willow, Harry swept the surrounding area. The appearance of the dementors impended, followed by the Patronus. _Someone_ must appear to conjure that magical creature, and Harry was determined to see _who_!  
  
But when the dementors appeared at last, Harry could see one about save themselves.  
  
What was the answer?  
  
Harry felt something nudging at the back of his brain. The answer to the mystery hovered before him, just out of reach. He extended a hand, as if to catch it from the air as a Golden Snitch. His fingers closed. His hand shook.  
  
Suddenly Harry jumped up.  
  
"I've got it!" he gasped.  
  
Hermione nearly fell backwards in surprise.  
  
"Harry -- what -- "  
  
"I know where the Patronus came from! I've got to go!"  
  
"Harry," Hermione said in alarm, her hands clutching at his robes, "you can't! I've warned you about -- "  
  
"I know," he said urgently. "But I've got the answer! And I won't be interfering. In fact, if I _don't_ go, and _right now_, then something that is _supposed_ to happen -- _won't_ happen!"  
  
Hermione stared searchingly into Harry's eyes, her grip on his robes not slackening.  
  
Harry placed his hand over hers.  
  
"Trust me, Hermione. Please."  
  
Slowly, very slowly, he felt her hand release his robes.  
  
Harry pulled out his wand, nodded once, then melted into the night.  
  
Her heart in her throat, Hermione watched the dementors surround the party. Though she knew she was out of range, still she imagined she could feel their terrible power squeezing the hope from her soul like a fist crushing an orange. A chill passed through her a she saw a dementor bend to give Harry its deadly kiss. Feeling helpless and terrified, she felt a cry rising to her lips. But when it found voice, it was not an exclamation of horror -- but of wonder!  
  
"The Patronus!"  
  
Hermione stared, rapt. It was beautiful, glowing silvery white in the moonlight. It charged the dementors, scattered them like chaff on the wind. She watched it turn and streak away, disappearing behind a bush to be lost from sight.  
  
Hermione did not know how long she sat in amazed silence. It was only when Harry reappeared, panting slightly, that she roused herself.  
  
"Harry -- did -- did you -- "  
  
"Yes," he said, catching his breath. "I finally realized it wasn't my dad I saw before. It was _me_. I saw _myself_ conjuring the Patronus. That's why I had to go _now_ -- or there would have been no Patronus to save us _then_!"  
  
"But -- " Hermione stammered, her analytical mind clicking even now, " -- but how did you _do_ it? I mean, if you couldn't do it _before_ -- why could you do it _now_?"  
  
"I think I know," Harry said thoughtfully. "The key to producing a Patronus is a happy thought - the happiest possible. When I tried earlier tonight, I couldn't summon a happy enough thought. But this time..."  
  
Harry's voice trailed off, and Hermione saw that he was now looking at her in a very strange manner.  
  
"Harry -- ?"  
  
"Sorry," Harry smiled sheepishly. "I was just thinking about what Professor Lupin said tonight. About you."  
  
Hermione was staring blankly at Harry.  
  
He said you were the cleverest witch of your age he'd ever seen," Harry said, a curious light in his eyes. "He was right. None of this would have been possible without you. It makes me laugh to think of gits like Malfoy who demean you because you're not pure-blood. Who else but Muggle-born Hermione Granger could wangle a Time-Turner from the Ministry of Magic?  
  
"But it's not just tonight. You've always been there for me. Even when it seemed that the whole world was against me, I could always count on you to stand by me. I really don't know how I'd have made it these last three years without you. I know I should have told you sooner. I just..."  
  
Harry lowered his eyes, for which Hermione was grateful, certain that the color in her cheeks was visible even in the pallid moonlight.   
  
"Harry," she said with a touch of awe, "that Patronus was magnificent! That was very, _very_ advanced magic! I don't think I could do that in ten years!"  
  
"Bet you could," Harry said, lifting his eyes with a trace of a smile. "Remember what Hagrid said last year (and here Harry imitated Hagrid's gruff voice): 'They haven't invented a spell our Hermione can't do!' "  
  
Hermione took a step toward Harry.  
  
"I remember telling you," she said, "back in first year, that you were a great wizard. I said then that it was your heart that made you great. But now you're really, truly the great wizard I always knew you could be."  
  
"You always knew?" Harry said tremulously, inching closer.  
  
"Always."  
  
"If I am," he said softly, "it's because of you."  
  
Harry was looking directly into Hermione's eyes, which seemed large and deep enough to swallow him whole. And was there wetness in their corners, glinting in the moonlight?  
  
Without conscious thought to guide him, Harry leaned forward, their eyes still locked. He hesitated only a moment, then touched his lips to hers in a brief, tender kiss.  
  
Startled, Hermione did not move. Harry, fearing his impulsive act to have been one-sided, made as if to pull back --  
  
Then Hermione's arms were around his neck, her mouth smothering his. His arms slipped around her waist, feeling the softness of her delicate curves beneath her robes.  
  
Hermione's lips were soft and warm. A euphoria passed through Harry. He felt weightless, like flying on his broomstick, his stomach turning flips, his heart hammering against his ribs.  
  
They parted at last, rather clumsily, their inexperience manifesting itself now that the moment had passed.  
  
Feeling suddenly ill-at-ease, Harry asked somewhat awkwardly, "How much time do we have left?"  
  
Hermione checked her watch.  
  
"We've about forty-five minutes until Dumbledore locks the door to the hospital wing. Only..." She hesitated, and Harry gave her an inquisitive look.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"How are we going to get back into the castle?" She was controlling her voice with an effort, but it was tinged with alarm nevertheless. "Sirius will have seen Dumbledore by now. Everyone in the castle will be buzzing with the news. How can we slip in without being seen?  
  
Harry was thinking hard now.  
  
"Dumbledore," he said, as it to himself.  
  
"What?"  
  
A slow smile was creeping onto Harry's face.  
  
"Dumbledore. He never would have sent us on this mission if he wasn't sure we could get back. Remember Hagrid's cabin? He told us just what to do to get Buckbeak away safely. And at the same time, I think he was also telling us how to get back into the castle. Come on."  
  
"Where are we going?" Hermione asked as Harry set off confidently.  
  
But Harry only smiled over his shoulder and continued walking.  
  
The darkness made Hermione uncertain of their surroundings. The trees and bushes fell away. She sensed an open expanse surrounding them. Finally Harry stopped before a door that seemed to appear from nowhere.  
  
"Will you do the honors?" Harry asked, standing aside.  
  
Bewildered, Hermione drew her wand and said, "_Alohomora_!"  
  
The door sprang open, and Harry entered the dark room with the sureness of familiarity. Hermione was about to light her wand, but she heard Harry say, "_Lumos_!" before she could utter the word. Entering, Hermione saw Harry standing before another door, his face ghostly in the wandlight.  
  
"If you would?" he smiled.  
  
Hermione opened the door with a wave of her wand. Then she gasped.  
  
"Since Quidditch season is over," Harry said, selecting two brooms, "I'm sure Madam Hooch won't miss these overnight. They're not Firebolts, but they'll take us high enough to enter the castle at some deserted spot where no one would ever expect to find us."  
  
Hermione was beaming.  
  
"Search the skies," she said, repeating Dumbledore's words.  
  
"Or, in other words," Harry said, testing his broom for balance as he spoke, "do the opposite of what is expected. If they're looking for you in their air, stay on the ground. And if there's danger on the ground..."  
  
"Take to the air!" Hermione finished.  
  
Extinguishing his wand, Harry locked the cupboard door, repeating the procedure outside. Then, keeping to the shadows, the pair approached the castle at a point where no light was visible, standing at last against a blank wall swathed in gloom.  
  
"I haven't ridden a broom since first year," Hermione said as she mounted less than gracefully. "I hope I haven't forgotten how."  
  
"You never forget how to ride a broom," Harry assured her. "Just kick off and point the handle upwards. Here, take my hand."  
  
They linked hands, then kicked off at Harry's signal. In no time they were hovering before a high window beyond which no hint of light shone. Releasing Harry's hand reluctantly, Hermione pulled her wand out again.  
  
"_Alohomora_!"  
  
The window opened easily. It was small, but neither of them was very large. Harry never thought he would be grateful for being undersized, but as he squeezed his shoulders through the narrow opening he could almost forgive the Dursleys for starving him all those years.  
  
Almost.  
  
Keeping to dark side passages, losing their way more than once, they found their way to the hospital wing just as Dumbledore was entering the hallway.  
  
The Headmaster turned as they approached, the corners of his moustaches tugging upwards. He questioned them with a single raised eyebrow. They replied with a nod, and his smile brightened.  
  
Dumbledore placed his ear to the door, then faced them with assurance.  
  
"All clear," he said, readying his wand. "In you go, then. Once this door is locked, no one will suspect any complicity in tonight's, um, unfortunate disappearance."  
  
His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles as Harry and Hermione entered the room. They heard the door lock click. It was with relief that they climbed back into their beds and lay back to sleep.  
  
But sleep came to neither of them.  
  
It was Hermione who spoke first.  
  
"Harry?" She paused, heard a rustling in his bed that told her he was listening. "What happened tonight between us, I mean -- is it going to -- change things...?"  
  
Harry was silent for moments that seemed like hours to Hermione.  
  
"Yes," he said at last.  
  
"Are we still...friends?"  
  
This time Harry replied immediately.  
  
"Always! If tonight has taught me nothing else, it's that I don't even want to _think_ about you not being in my life."  
  
He wanted to say more, but his mind couldn't seem to find the right words.  
  
It was Hermione who gave them voice.  
  
"I think we opened one more door tonight," she said. "One we're both a little afraid to step through. But if I had to choose someone to go through that door with, it would be you. I think if we just take it one step at a time, everything will be okay."  
  
"I just thought of something," Harry said slowly. "Sirius is my legal guardian. And now he's free. Maybe Dumbledore will accept his permission for me to go to Hogsmeade."  
  
"I'm sure he will," Hermione said.  
  
"Would you...want to go...to Hogsmeade...just the two of us...?"  
  
"I'd love to," Hermione said without hesitation.  
  
"Right, then," Harry said, feeling his heart begin to race in most alarming fashion. "It's a..."  
  
"It's a date," Hermione finished softly.  
  
"Goodnight, Harry."  
  
" 'Night, Hermione."  
  
So saying, Harry lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes, slowly drifting off into what he was sure would be the most contented sleep he had ever known.  
  


*

  
  
Harry was roused by the opening and closing of the back door (he still hadn't found the right Charm to get rid of that squeak) and opened his eyes to see Hermione gliding toward him, looking more beautiful than he remembered.  
  
"Cedric and Cho just called," she said, smiling down at him, her liquid brown eyes making him weak.  
  
"Don't tell me they're going to be late again?" he said, rolling his eyes in exaggerated fashion. "You get his face back in the fire and tell him to quit polishing that ruddy Triwizard Cup and get his bum over here, now!"  
  
"For your information," Hermione replied, wagging a finger in his face, "they called to tell us they'll be here right on time!  
  
"However, Sirius and Michelle _will_ be a bit late. Seems they overslept this morning."  
  
Harry emitted an amused hoot.  
  
"They may have been in bed," he said slyly, "but a hundred Galleons says they weren't sleeping!"  
  
"Shhhh!" Hermione hissed, an impish smile on her lips. "The children!  
  
"Besides, how many mornings have _you_ called in late for work, mister?"  
  
"Can I help it," he pleaded, "if I'm married to the sexiest witch in Britain?"  
  
Hermione's cheeks colored slightly as she turned to re-enter the house. But no sooner had her hand touched the door handle than Harry pointed his wand and said, "_Accio_ sexy witch!"  
  
With a squeal of surprise, Hermione flew backwards and landed in Harry's lap.  
  
"Harry!" she scolded playfully. "The neighbors!"  
  
"Let 'em get their own sexy witch," he said huskily. "You're mine!"  
  
Harry pulled his wife to him and kissed her warmly, feeling her love as a soothing balm spreading through him.  
  
And, just as on that night so many years ago, Harry felt as if he were flying.  
  
"Have I told you how much I love you?" Harry whispered, his lips brushing hers.  
  
"Only every minute of every day."  
  
"You've made me so happy, Hermione."  
  
That door swings both ways," she said, rubbing her nose against his with a kittenish twinkle in her eyes.  
  
As Harry melted into a helpless puddle in his chair, Hermione rose and turned toward the door.  
  
"Need any help?" he asked dreamily.  
  
"You just lie back, Birthday Boy," Hermione called over her shoulder. "You'll get enough exercise come September when it's _my_ birthday.  
  
"When everything's ready, I'll send the kids 'round to wake you."  
  
"_Both_ of them?" Harry groaned through a broad smile. "I'd rather face Lord Voldemort -- _wandless_!"  
  
He watched Hermione's graceful curves vanish through the back door, then lay back and closed his eyes. And as he drifted off to the music of the birds twittering in the trees and Hermione humming sweetly in the kitchen, Harry saw an image swimming before him, wrapped in a veil of silver mist: A gentle face, a warm smile, eyes of deepset mocha, all framed by a cloud of tameless chestnut hair.  
  
_ You're **my** Patronus, Hermione_, Harry thought, his heart soaring as on a Wingardium Leviosa Charm. _God sent you to me to drive away all the darkness in my life. I'll never deserve you, but I'll spend every day of my life trying_.  
  
_I love you, Hermione. I love you._  
  
  


*~*~*~*

  
  
Disclaimer: Is there anyone who _doesn't_ know that all of these marvelous characters belong to J.K. Rowling and no one else? Of course not. It's a silly question.  
  
*whispers from Fae* LEAVE a review, or I shall seek you all one by one with my wand poised and ready to strike. *smiles sweetly and backs away*  
(This is the beaty of posting a chapter for someone else.....I can say and DO whatever I want!!! *diabolical laugh* Uh oh...Stoneheart is gonna make me pay for that one...*runs away to find a hiding spot*)  
  
ALL by: Stoneheart  



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